


Feel You Breathing

by Perpetual Motion (perpetfic)



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Fix-It, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-13
Updated: 2012-09-13
Packaged: 2017-11-14 04:34:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/511365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perpetfic/pseuds/Perpetual%20Motion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt: Phil needs a nap after his injury. So, basically that. With Phil's parents in a silent cameo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feel You Breathing

Phil’s mother hovers. His father circles and pulls out chairs and pauses to put a hand on his shoulder, and Clint tries not to tighten up the muscles in his back, but they keep slipping around his sight line and behind his back, and if he doesn’t have a good line of sight on them, how can he protect Phil?

“I’m tired,” Phil says a few hours into the visit. He stands slowly, his mother hovering to his left, father half out of his seat across from him. Clint comes to his feet and simply waits, knowing from previous attempts that trying to help Phil stand will get him pushed or slugged, depending on Phil’s level of annoyance.

“I could nap,” Clint says. He smiles at Susan and Don who smile back with uncertainty--they're not quite sure what to make of Clint, who they've never met before, but who very clearly know how to handle their very injured son--but then Phil’s fully upright and found his balance, and Clint follows him to the bedroom.

“Help me with my shirt,” Phil says.

It’s actually Clint’s shirt, just an old tee, but slightly larger than anything Phil owns himself, so easier to get on and off around his still-healing scar. Clint pulls it off of with care, making sure not to jostle or catch on Phil’s stitches. Once it’s off, Phil drops to the bed and unbuttons his jeans. Clint kneels down and helps him pull them off, too. Phil’s left in his boxers, and Clint strips down to match before crawling under the covers and spooning up behind Phil, eyes on the door and hand settled a few inches below Phil’s scar.

“My parents are not going to burst in and take me away,” Phil says. “They’re in their 70s.”

“Your dad is still pretty spry,” Clint murmurs, and he closes his eyes to concentrate on the feeling of Phil chuckling against him. “Get some rest,” he says. 

“You too,” Phil replies.

Clint breathes in Phil’s scent and doesn’t let himself go to sleep until Phil goes slack against him, hand intertwined with Clint’s under his scar. Clint doesn’t dream of anything, and when he wakes up, Phil’s still out, warm and breathing and no pain showing on his face, and Clint buries his nose in Phil’s hair and nods off again.


End file.
